Walkers
by Gune
Summary: An original character driven story set in the walking dead universe focusing on a man who has lost his memory during the end of the world. Those he meets he may have already known. The consequences of his past actions may shape the outcome of his future.
1. The blind man with no memory

**Disclaimer: _The Walking Dead_ is a comic and television series created by Robert Kirkman and Tony Moore. The comic book is published by Image Comics and the television series is aired on AMC.**

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><p><strong>A Drakoneasho Studios Production<strong>

**Written by: Gune**

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><p><strong>WALKERS<strong>

**Chapter One**

**THE BLIND MAN WITH NO MEMORY**

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><p>They peeled back. He swore he could feel them peeling back. Yet nothing but darkness filled his vision. His eyes were open, but his eyesight was gone. Thoughts and questions began circulating throughout his mind; thoughts of living with a disability as severe as blindness and questions concerning how this could have happened. His vision was just fine yesterday. Or was it the day before? It was at that moment, seconds after awaking to a world of darkness that he realized he couldn't remember the last few days. After that realization had passed, a more frightening realization came to fruition.<p>

He could not remember anything.

His entire past was lost to him. He was a stranger unto himself. No name, no family, and no childhood. Frightened and confused, his first instincts were to rise up from whatever bed he lay upon and find someone, _anyone_ that could give him answers. Slowly he lifted his head and then immediately lowered it as an overwhelmingly intense pain began to pound near the center of his forehead. Expecting to press against some kind of pillow, the back of his skull instead bumped against a hard surface that his bodily senses had just begun realizing was there.

Was he in a hospital? Did he fall out of the bed onto the tile floor? Or maybe he was at home? But why would his bedroom have a tile floor? That wasn't normal, was it?

"Hello?" His voice sounded strange and unfamiliar to him as it sailed across the space around him.

For a handful of seconds, which seemed like hours to him, the surrounding area was still and silent. However, the silence was suddenly shattered as a small metal object impacted the floor. The noise echoed across what seemed like a large warehouse-like area, an area much too large to be a room inside of a hospital or a house. The noise startled him, forcing him to his feet with several reflexive motions.

_Where am I?_ His troubled mind sought answers his blindness concealed. "Is someone there?"

Placing his aching head in his right hand revealed a large deformed lump near the center of his forehead. A bruise no doubt, since touching it brought a sharp pain to his temple. He wondered if perhaps the cause of this bruise was also the cause of his memory loss. He began taking a few cautious steps forward, holding his left hand out to feel for any walls or obstacles that might lie in his path. His footsteps were shuffled and echoed throughout wherever he was. About a minute into his slowed pace across the tile floor, his hand caressed a small hunk of metal, causing his legs to freeze in place as his hand inspected the object. Round; cylinder with several grooves that wrapped around the entire…can…that's what it was, a can. One of the many cans used to store food usually spread throughout grocery stores.

A grocery store? Is that where he was?

Too confused and frustrated to even attempt piecing together why he would wake up inside of a grocery store of all places, he continued forward, calling out again, hoping someone would answer him.

"Hel- gah!" His words were cut short and replaced by a surprised yelp after bumping into something generating a rancid odor.

It also happened to be moving.

"Hey! Hello? Is someone there?" He almost pleaded with the object that he hoped was a person, even if it smelled worse than a graveyard, or more like it belonged in one.

"Uhhhhh…" Was the person's response.

"Oh thank god!" He didn't care what the response was. He was too overjoyed to receive one at all from what he knew was a human being. "Could you give me a hand? I'm sorry I bumped into you like that but I'm sure you can tell by looking at my eyes that it wasn't intentional."

Several moments of agonizing silence went by before frustration overtook his words and actions. "Hey." He said while rising to his feet on his own. "I said I was sorry. Look I'm having a real bad day here…or night…or whatever and I would just like to figure out what's going on. I don't know where I am and I can't see anything."

Again, silence was his response.

"Are you the only person here? Where are we-"

His words were cut short again as two hands clamped down tightly onto his shoulders and yanked him to the side with enough force to nearly lift him completely off of his feet. Screams of panic, demands for an explanation, and pleads for help from anyone else within the grocery store boomed from his mouth as his body was slammed into an isle counter beside him that held hundreds of canned goods. The insane person's grip was ironclad and no amount of tugging would remove the death grip from the blind man's shoulders. Several metal objects, which the man with no memory assumed were more cans, rained down on the two humans as they swung each other around the store isle. Eventually the insane person managed to pin the blind man to the floor and another ghastly groan escaped his throat.

Terrified, the blind man wrapped his right hand around the first thing it came into contact with and slammed it from the floor into the side of the insane person's head. Once wasn't enough to even phase the lunatic. This fact only encouraged the blind man to quicken his assault, bashing the lunatic in the head seven times before finally managing to forcibly remove the psycho. The instant he realized he was free, the blind man rose to his feet and ran as fast as he could towards what he hoped was an exit. As he traveled across the tile floor, more and more unnatural human groans flowed into his ears followed by the unnerving echo of shuffled, half trotting footsteps moving in his direction.

Too preoccupied with the distracting noises around him and too terrified to care about not being able to see where he was going, the blind man's face smacked into a wall and the back of his head once again found itself banging off of the hard tile floor of the store. The groan that escaped him was quickly drowned out by the chorus of horror that surrounded him. Forcing himself to ignore the pain surging throughout his body, the blind man rose to his feet and placed his hands against the wall. Instantly, the blind man noticed something about the wall that differentiated it from the other barriers surrounding the store.

It was made of glass.

A window perhaps? Or maybe, the glass walls that usually connect to the automatic glass doors that are at the front of most grocery stores. With time running out, as the blind man could hear the frenzied lunatics getting closer, he felt his way along the glass wall while silently praying that he was moving in the right direction towards the entrance. When his hands slid across the familiar crack between two automatic glass doors the blind man's spirits rose and a burning sensation of hope filled his chest. The doors would not open on their own and he figured they must be turned off or maybe the power had gone out. Both scenarios meant little to the man with no memory of himself as he remembered that these types of doors were fairly easy to force open as long as they weren't locked.

Fortune smiled upon him yet again as the doors slowly began to slide open. The opening crack in the doors instantly brought the bright sunlight of the outside world into the store, forcing the man with no memory to shut his eyes. Confusion swirled through his aching head as a burst of joy exploded inside his chest as the realization that his eyesight was still intact overtook his senses. For a moment, the lunatics had left his mind. Prying the doors farther apart and sticking his head out, he took a glance to the left revealing the glass barriers to be completely covered with duct tape and large amounts of paper. Someone didn't want the outside world to know what was inside the store.

His feet pulled him forward and what he saw made him think twice about being happy he was no longer blind. With an open mouth contributing to his awestruck and horrified expression, the man with no memory took in the sight of the ravaged grocery store parking lot. Gallons upon gallons of blood stained the black grounds of the lot. Pieces of flesh and bone, legs, hands, feet, ears, intestines, and several other human remains the man could not identify were scattered across the lot and on top of the many abandoned vehicles. Although the sun was shining, the sky seemed darker.

Nothing; no rational thoughts could pass through his mind at that moment. Bewilderment, horror, and despair had overtaken his entire being. He would have stood there for hours, too stunned to move had it not been for the pair of bloodstained arms that shot out from the shadows inside the store and wrapped around his upper torso.

A loud terrified scream escaped his lungs as the man with no memory felt two rows of human teeth clamp down onto his skin above his left shoulder blade.


	2. The walking dead

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><p><strong>WALKERS<strong>

**Chapter Two**

**THE WALKING DEAD**

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><p>Thoughts and emotions, instinctual reflexes and muscle memory reactions. These things overtake all human beings at various points in their lives. A simple itch will be scratched. Saddening experiences may induce tears. Noises too loud for one person to bear will activate that person's instinctual, reflexive need to cover their ears. There are those who train themselves to react certain ways in many different situations be they physical altercations, military operations, or something similar.<p>

Then there are those who are gifted with the natural ability to react in just the right way without the need for any professional training. Their instincts for survival are heightened above that of an average human and when physically threatened, their bodies react accordingly.

The man with no memory was one such individual.

It had begun several seconds before the lunatic's arms wrapped around his body. Subtly, the rancid odor emanating from the lunatic traveled through the circulating air of the outside world into the nostrils of the man with no memory. The silent sound of the wind being cut by the bloodstained arms of the assailant bounced ever so slightly off of his eardrums.

Although he himself could not notice these small changes in the atmosphere around him, his brain could. The ever present latent sensation of dread that overtakes all living creatures when danger is near began assuming control of his body before he could realize that was indeed the sensation he was feeling. His arms began rising a split second before the lunatic could clutch him within his grasp. His fingernails were already buried deep within the bloody arms of his assailant moments before the sharp pain of teeth clamping down on his skin doubled the speed of his actions through shock and fear. His knees bent as his body lowered and his hands pulled the lunatic forward, using his aggressor's own momentum to launch him over his head and onto the ground in front of him.

He didn't realize he was screaming the entire three seconds it took for him to free himself from the lunatic's grasp. For only a split second, the stinging pain between his neck and left shoulder brought his hand and his gaze to the top of the tight black t-shirt covering his upper torso. The brief inspection revealed that while it hurt like hell, the bite hadn't broken through his skin or even ripped his shirt for that matter.

Anger overtook the man with no memory and his fiery glare turned, lowering to the insane person that bit him. The loon _had_ to be insane. Why else would he try and bite him? The real answer to that question, brought all of his subsiding fear back tenfold. A bloodstained man lay at his feet. Several chunks of flesh were torn from his arms and legs. His denim jeans and white t-shirt were almost completely shredded. Slowly, the lunatic began rising to his feet, causing the man with no memory to reflexively take a step back in caution.

"Look man. I don't know what you're on or who mugged you for it but…" The man with no memory started to speak but what he saw next would silence and forever change him.

As the lunatic stood upright he revealed the final gory wound decorating the front of his body. Blood trickled down from the once long but now half eaten intestines hanging out of the large open hole in the center of the dead man's stomach. Its lifeless eyes centered on the live warm flesh pulsating only a few feet away.

"What…the…_fuck_?" The man with no memory said with widened, disbelieving eyes.

"Gaaahhh!" The undead man growled.

At first, for a handful of seconds, the man with no memory could not comprehend anything. His brain had shut off for a moment during the process of processing the information given to it by its eyes. Finally, after sorting through billions of lost memories, one word finally came to the forefront.

_Zombie._

The man with no memory could not believe his own thought. "You…you're dead." He trembled while taking another step back, closer to the grocery store doors. "You can't be standing up! You can't be walking around! You're fucking _dead!_"

The zombie's arms rose and its hands reached out for the human shaking in front of it.

"Get back!" The man screamed. "Stay back!"

Speaking was getting him nowhere so instead the man with no memory turned to violence. It had already played out in his mind; a simple kick to the zombie's head. The kick would have to have some momentous force behind it so spinning wouldn't hurt his intentions.

"I said stay _back!"_ The man shouted.

A second later he spun to the right, performing a well-balanced roundhouse kick, slamming his right foot into the creature's jaw. Although he could feel the force of his blow flowing through his body as his foot impacted the zombie's face, the kick did little to stop the undead cannibal. Its head snapped to the side and a low grunt escaped its throat before its hungered gaze returned to its potential meal. Realizing the futility in a direct physical assault against a dead man, the man with no memory decided to act upon the other option that seemed sensible.

"Fuck this…" He said while shaking his head in disbelief then ran around the creature, narrowly escaping another lunge from the zombie.

Seconds later several more undead humans started piling out of the grocery store entrance. Loud screeches and growls from the large group of zombies caused the only living person within the parking lot to glance back at the store entrance. Below several big red letters that spelled out the name Winn Dixie, the man with no memory took in the horrifying sight of over forty undead cannibals crowding outside of the beige colored concrete walls of the store. Seconds later, the small herd of zombies began to pursue their escaping prey. While slow and unable to fully run, the creatures were able to keep their potential meal within sight by slowly jogging and half trotting across the parking lot.

"This isn't happening…this shit isn't happening…" The man with no memory said to himself as he ran, trying to wish his fear away.

Although he couldn't remember how often he exercised, his spirits were slightly lifted after a brief glance of his body revealed him to be in excellent shape. He swore he could just feel the six pack hiding beneath his shirt. A small bit of knowledge about his ancestral heritage was also revealed as he noticed the caramel color of his skin. His black baggy jeans ruffled as he ran causing him a bit of a hindrance. The hot sun forced a moderate portion of sweat from the pores beneath his black fuzzy hair into his eyes, causing his vision to be momentarily blurred.

Where was he? Why was it so hot? What part of the world was he in? As he ran, his eyes scanned the parking lot for information. The license plates on the abandoned cars yielded information sufficient enough to answer his most recent questions. Most of the plates were of Floridian origin, specifically Fort Lauderdale and Miami. That at least explained the reasoning behind the heat. However, it did little to comfort the man as he knew the undead cannibals were still chasing him.

Forty-Sixth Avenue. This was the name on the street sign hanging above a garbage ridden road in front of the store parking lot. More groups of abandoned automobiles were scattered throughout the road and the connecting streets within his vision. Thoughts of commandeering one of these vehicles surfaced near the front of his mind for only a moment before he reached the main street, Stirling Road. The gray pavement was littered with trash and several wrecks of cars that had crashed into one another. There was even a mid sized boat lying on its side near the center lane. There was no way he would be able to navigate a car through the piles of debris and twisted metal at a satisfactory speed. What made matters worse were the hundreds of zombies roaming through the carnage.

Left or right? He wasn't too enthusiastic about either path. Turning back seemed to be a small conciliation for a third option since the zombies behind were actually chasing him while the ones in front had yet to notice him. However, it was only a matter of time before they did.

"Gruuhh!" One of the undead down the road to the right groaned, alerting its undead brethren of the live flesh a few meters away.

"Well." The man with no memory said as he watched the zombies down the road turn in his direction. "I guess that answers _that_ question."

Running for long periods of time dressed in black in one of the hottest areas of the United States was not something an intelligent person would recommend. Fortunately for the man with no memory, he only needed to keep himself at a steady pace just above jogging in order to maintain a comfortable distance from the undead cannibals pursuing him. He thanked his former self again for staying in good physical condition. However, worry began to creep into the back of his mind. More and more of the undead were joining the steadily growing mob to his rear. The most troubling of facts was the most obvious; zombies do not get tired.

It had been about five minutes now and he was beginning to feel his body giving in to fatigue. He felt as if normally, his normal self, whoever that was, would feel comfortable running for over an hour, even with the baggy pants. However, the pain from his bruised head was starting to take its toll and the sweat from his temple was no longer the primary cause of the blur overtaking his vision. He was nearing a major intersection, an intersection filled with more death and destruction than he could imagine his former self had ever seen.

State road seven was the name on the small green sign at the man's feet. The road, if it could even be called that anymore, looked as if it had been hit by five hurricanes. Almost every inch of the four way intersection was covered in wrecked and torn steel. All of the traffic lights were strewn across the ground and atop barely intact automobiles. Toxic moisture dripped from the bottom of a crashed garbage truck that emitted a rotten stench. Piles upon piles of rotting half eaten flesh and bones were scattered throughout the wreckage.

On the other side of the intersection, in front of the large casino, the man with no memory could see several more human figures moving towards his direction. For a brief moment, it almost looked as if one of the figures was sprinting. He shook the thought away and turned around, scanning the mob of undead behind him. They were almost on top of him. Their eyes were wide with carnivorous anticipation. Their heads shook with excitement as they growled, drool oozing out of their bloodstained mouths.

"This…this is unreal…" The man with no memory whispered.

His spirit was almost broken and all hope seemed to drain from his body. He almost considered standing there and letting the undead catch him. What more could he do? Run hoping to find a place to hide? What good would that be? The entire world was infested with undead human cannibals. What life could he possibly hope to live in a world like that?

It was at that moment, when his senses were drowned out by emotion that a zombie woman managed to sneak out from behind one of the wrecked vehicles and tackle him to the ground.

"Fuck!" He screamed. "Get off me!"

The two rolled through the garbage ridden street. The zombie growled, snapping her teeth towards the man's face like a wild hyena, trying to bite off any morsel of live flesh her teeth could reach. The man grunted through gritted teeth, pressing his hands firmly against the woman's shoulders, barely holding back her snapping teeth. At the sound of hundreds of feet stomping along the street he risked a quick glance down Stirling and what he saw almost sapped the strength from his arms along with his waning will to live.

_Is this…it?_ His thoughts were reflected through the hopeless gaze in his eyes.

The mob of zombies rushed towards the downed man, preparing to feast on his flesh. Their mouths remained open, an unnatural hiss escaping their throats as they could almost taste the warm flesh sliding down their throats. Seconds before their cannibalistic hunger could be satisfied a loud bang echoed for miles in every direction. All of the undead humans and the one live human with no memory turned their heads in the direction of the sound's origin.

What the man with no memory saw left him speechless. His gaze started near the ground where two brown sneakers were planted firmly two and half feet apart in a basic firing stance. As his gaze rose his eyes took in the sight of an attractive young woman dressed in short blue jean shorts, and a small black t-shirt. The sleeveless shirt cut off just above her stomach. Her long brunette hair was tied into a ponytail that hung down just above the small of her back.

Even after everything he had been through, the man with no memory couldn't control his hormonal instincts the sight of the woman induced.

"Damn…" He whispered.

"Come on!" The young woman screamed.

The man glanced back at the undead woman on top of him and took in the sight of the lifeless expression across her face. Unlike before, this expression was more in line with a corpse than a walking corpse. The dead woman was truly dead. The cause seemingly the fresh bullet wound on the side of her head. The man turned his gaze back to the young woman.

"You don't have to tell me twice." He said, pushing the dead zombie to the ground and rising to his feet.

As he caught up with the woman he chanced a glance back at the undead hordes pursuing them then turned back to his savior.

"So where we goin'?" He asked.

"The casino!" The woman replied while firing a shot back at the horde.

"Um…" The man glanced back at the casino they were currently running further away from. "The casino's back there."

"Not that casino." The woman said with a hint of annoyance. "_That_ casino."

Behind him, the man with no memory remembered the casino called The Seminole Classic. In front of him, in the direction the woman was pointing, his eyes took in a southside view of the Hollywood Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. The parking garage alone was worthy of the title skyscraper. Near the front of the establishment a massive skyscraping red, white, and gold guitar with flashing lights in place of strings stood tall above the destruction spread out across the streets beneath it.

As the two humans reached the entrance to the parking garage, the young woman stopped and turned to the man with no memory. Her lips formed a small smirk as she glanced up at the casino parking garage then back at her new acquaintance.

"So…you feeling lucky?" She asked half-jokingly.

The man with no memory glanced up at the garage and noticed the street sign with the name Lucky Street painted in white. At the sound of more screams from the undead horde, his eyes took in another glance at the approaching zombies.

"No…" He said as his gaze returned to the young woman. "Not really."


End file.
